Review, Rewrite, Redo
by talentless-art
Summary: England, Arthur Kirkland, had raised America into the nation- man he was today. What had gone wrong? What had he done right? Let's review, shall we? //Fic about America's past; USxUK; Rating will go up depending on reviews; Human&Nation names used//
1. New Found Lands

It was a common thing. To see Finland on the side of the river, hurt in some way or another. He was complaining to the only 2 nations that were present at that moment, England and France, who just happened to be fishing there.

"G-guys," Finland sobbed, "P-please listen to my tale..."

England sighed "What's wrong, now? Did you trip, fall, and hit your head or something just as outrageous?"

Finland flailed "N-no! I swear I just tripped this time... B-but that isn't the point! I'm not here to complain about what happened to me.. It's about... A little boy."

"You're here to complain about un petit garçon, Finlande?" France quirked an eyebrow, amused at the thought of a boy doing something to give Finland that bump on his head.

"Yes- I mean, No! I'm here to tell you guys of a boy I found on the way here... Actually, this isn't the first time I've come acrosss the child. He seems to wonder around with the rabbits in a huge open field.." Finland paused to take a deep breath "I think..."

"You mean...?" England continued.

"He could possibly be..." France added.

"My little brother?" They all finished.

England glared at France and grabbed him by the neck, strangling him.

"Are you spouting nonsense again?! He is MY little brother!"

France had also grabbed England, "Angleterre, YOU must be speaking blasphème of MY frère cadet!"

"G-guys! Let's just go to the kid and ask..." the two paused. A mischievous glint in both of their eyes. Finland sighed. This was going to be a long day...

* * *

"Over there." Finland pointed to the child in the middle of a field, hiding in the tall grass.

"Hah! I told you he was MY brother! Just one look at the child's hair and you can immediately tell!" England boasted.

"Ah, but he OBVIOUSLY has MY eyebrows! So elegant! Unlike those caterpillars on your face!~" France pointed out, smirking as England flushed red in anger and embarrassment.

Finland approached the child, who seemed to have noticed the party and had begun staring a them with innocent curiosity. Finland nodded at the boy, who in response, nodded back.

"Hey guys, how's he related to me?" Finland asked with a smile.

"A-ah, related through spirit!", "O-Oui! Don't worry mon cher Finlande!" The two nations seemed to not want any more competition, so Finland merely sighed and crouched down, returning his attention to the boy.

"What's your name, pikkuinen?", Finland gave the boy a friendly smile.

"Name?" the boy repeated.

"Yeah, don't you have a name? Everyone has a name!"

The boy stared blankly at Finland, who in turn sighed.

"What do I call you then?"

The boy shrugged, his cowlick bouncing with the enthusiastic movement.

The two European nations had emerged from their cautious position behind the grass and approached the lad to have a closer look at his features.

Sandy blonde hair that was set to be a perfect mess. Vibrant, sky blue eyes that were filled with emotions. Slightly tanned skin. His face was the perfect description of youth.

"How cute!~" France exclaimed as he looked over the child.

"Such a cute face.." England murmured, feeling his fingers twitch, his fingers having the urge to run themselves through the boy's hair and try to tame the stubborn cowlick...

A rabbit jumped into the boys arms and he immediately nuzzled his face into the creature, hiding the modest blush that spread across his face.

The 3 nations looked at each other and laughed.

"I'd like to adopt the boy, nation or not.." Finland smiled. Of course he was joking, but it was a nice thought if England and France decided to give the little boy to him. The boy was simply too cute for his own good!

"Agreed." England chuckled. He was never fond of children who cried, but this boy seemed to do nothing but smile. And that feature of his was truly endearing.

"Oui, le garçon est beaucoup trop mignon.~" France agreed, nodding thoughtfully.

Finland chuckled to himself. Though he knew that he had important matters to attend to, so he guessed it was time to leave.

"Well, see you soon, then? And be careful of these two..." he teased and ruffled the boy's hair, before dragging the other two nations away from the new land.

* * *

England yawned. It was far too early for him to even be up, but he figured that if he was going to get the boy before France, might as well get a head start. England spotted the familiar strand of hair sticking out from the grass and he jogged towards the boy, smiling.

"Hah! There you are!" England smirked as he approached the boy. The lad had turned around and caught a glimpse of England, but did not run from his spot.

"Wow, you're one lucky lad! I don't just go around visiting kids like you so early in the morning, you know?" England smiled warmly at the boy.

"You came to see me? Awesome!" the boy giggled, looking directly into England's emerald eyes, which were wide in surprise.

"H-hey... Aren't you scared?" England had to ask. You'd think two strangers watching your every move would scare a boy out of his wits.

The boy shook his head. "Nope! Heroes never get scared! And you guys looked funny!"

England chuckled then sighed. "Okay, then from now onwards, you will be my little brother!"

"Mm. Then, can I call you 'big brother'?" the boy smiled. England felt his heart skip a beat. 'Brother...' he thought. Nobody has ever called him that. Not even Ireland, and they were really related! England stared at the boy. His sandy blonde hair, although sticking out a bit, was perfectly arranged. A little cowlick sticking up proudly just where his fringe began. Huge, round, and most of all, beautiful sky blue eyes staring right back into his emerald ones.

England flushed. He felt like he was taking advantage of the lad. But it had to be done! Better himself rather than that bloody pervert of a frog, France.

"... Okay. I'm your big brother, and you're my little brother." England whispered modestly.

The boy grinned "Yay! See you tomorrow then, big brother!"

And with that, England left the new land, a smile plastered on his face as he thought of the lad, his new 'little brother'.

* * *

"Okay then! We let the boy decide between the two of us!" France grinned, knowing how much he had to offer for the boy compared to England.

"Yes. He'll decide for us." England turned to the boy, a creepy smile on his face as he approached the boy. "C'moon... Remember what we promised yesterday... Come here..." he breathed out, loud enough for the lad to hear.

The boy grimaced and tears built up in his eyes. The look on England's face could scare anyone! He burst into tears, clinging onto his shirt with one hand as the other instinctively went up to wipe away the tears.

"Ah! Angleterre! You made the boy cry!" France tisked, then called for some of his men to bring him a silver platter. He took the platter carefully and crouched down, offering the food to the boy.

"Here. Come with me and you'll get nothing but the finest! Clothes, culture, food, everything!" France smirked. He was going to win.

England panicked and turned to his own men. "Well? Don't just stand there! Do something!" he screamed, almost desperately. The men just hid their hands behind their backs mumbling incoherent explanations and excuses.

"Of course..." England began, "I knew from the start... That we would have absolutely nothing to offer..." and he sat on the grass, ducking his head in his arms as he curled up, crying silently at the loss of his beloved 'little brother'.

The boy stared at France, then at England. He looked at England with sad eyes and tears gathered at the rims. He wiped them away and walked towards England, grabbing his sleeve and tugging it lightly to get his attention. England lifted his head slowly and was shocked to see the boy.

The boy sniffed before putting on a brave face and asking "Are you okay, big brother?" and it was decided.

* * *

The wind blew gently as England rocked the small boy in his arms. France had announced his loss fair and square and had left the land that, now, belonged to England. England smiled down at the boy in his arms. He wrapped his arms around the small frame and held him closer.

"New England." he whispered. He would think of a better name later. He was just tired of referring to the lad as just 'lad' or 'boy'. The boy opened his eyes slightly and smiled.

"England." the boy said, as if he was learning how to speak all over again. "England... England.." he repeated.

England blushed slightly and shook his head. "I... I'll think of a better name for you later..." he muttered to the lad and kissed his forehead.

Then, England turned his attention to his new land. He looked at how big, beautiful, vast, and fruitful this land was. Woodland creatures still lurked around the field. England closed his eyes. He knew now, he had to do this. A mere child was gifted with such tremendous lands. _'This land...'_ England thought, _'One day... This land will burden the child. And when that day comes... I'll be there to help him through. To make sure he survives.'_

England had not realized that the child was stirring slightly in his arms and before he could react, the boy had jumped out of his arms and ran towards an animal,

"W-wait! Come back here!" England called out. He squinted his eyes to see just what the boy was running after. It was brown... Had horns... A tail- Dear Lord, it was a bull!

England panicked and ran after the child. "H-hold on! I'll sa..." he trailed off at the site. The boy had grabbed the bull by the hooves and spun it around like it was lighter than a pillow. The boy was laughing as he did this. England gulped. Maybe the child didn't really need his help... _'B-but it's always better to have guidance, right?'_ he thought, trying to find an excuse to keep the child.

The boy was ridiculously strong. Stronger than him, even, but, that didn't mean that the boy was wise. There. The boy needed wisdom from him, obviously.

England stared at the child in awe, before chuckling to himself and sighing. "America..." he whispered. "You're name will be _America_.".


	2. The Crate of Whiskey

**Author's Note: Okay.. There's an OC here and his name is IRELAND!**

**Here's some info on Ireland~**

**Name: Quinn McKinley Kirkland**

**Yeah, just so you guys don't get confused. Thanks! Oh and the OC is really mine, so... Yeah.**

**I don't own Hetalia. **cries****

* * *

America grew along with the development of his land. He now took the image of an eleven year old child.

America was sitting on the stairs at the front porch of his house, clinging onto the rails just at the side. He swung his legs back and forth as he waited for his 'older brother'. For _his_ England.

He sighed to himself, _'England, you're so slow..'_ he thought impatiently.

America had grown very attached to England, possessive even. He was always jealous when France came over and made England flush in that really cute way. America also wanted to do that! But it looked as if all he could do was make England chuckle and smile.

_'As long as big brother France doesn't see that smile, we'll be even!'_ America grinned to himself.

At that moment, he saw a figure walking towards the house. America jumped from his seat and ran towards the silhouette. "Englaand!~" he squealed and glomped the older nation.

England sputtered as he was tackled to the ground by America. "Pffft- H-hey there kiddo!" England chuckled and ruffled the boy's hair before giving him a quick kiss on the forehead.

They stood up and America resumed hugging England, only tall enough to barely wrap his arms around the older man's waist.

"England! I missed you! Did you miss me? What did you do? Where did you go?" America rambled, not really caring. He just really missed England.

England smiled down at the boy and picked him up. It was bit harder than usual, he was.. Heavier? And England swore the boy grew a good few centimeters taller.

"Heh, let me tell you about everything I did while I wasn't here with you.. But before that, let's go back to the house." America smiled and took the opportunity of his new height. He gestured England to bring his face closer, as if he had a secret to tell.

England quirked an eyebrow but leaned forward. America cupped his hands around his mouth and blew gently into England's ear, causing the other nation to go weak in the knees, almost dropping America.

England flushed and moved his head away from America, who was smirking at the expression on England's face.

"H-hey! Don't do that!" he chuckled slightly, but it was rather breathless.

America giggled "Sorry, England! I just wanted to try it! But that wasn't the real thing I was gonna do.." and he motioned England to lean closer again, a sincere expression on his face.

England hesitated but then leaned again and America leaned forward, lips ghosting over England's ear. "I love you." America whispered into England's ear, before pulling away slightly and kissing England on the cheek.

He smiled at the words and gesture and pulled away slightly then smiled down at the boy. "I love you too, lad. Now let's go back inside, it's getting cold out here..."

* * *

As England finished getting his bags into the house, along with the crates that contained pieces of his culture, he had settled down on the sofa, sighing softly to himself.

It was hard. Hard to return to America. Hard to get on a ship and sail all the way to America. But it was worth it. England loved the lad so much. He wanted to stay with him forever and treasure the moments of his little brother's childhood.

America went over to the couch and sat down next to England, clinging onto his arm and inhaling the scent of England's clothes. "I reaally missed you.." he mumbled into the sleeve, growing slightly addicted to the scent. England chuckled and used his free hand to ruffle the boy's hair.

"Hey, I missed you too.." _'A lot more than you can imagine'_ England added.

"England, tell me a story about the times you went on ships with cool looking hats, swords and guns! You know, the time you told me about you kicking big brother France's a-" England silenced the boy with a finger. Pressing it delicately to his lips.

"None of that language! You're much too young!" England chuckled.

At that moment, one of the men entered America's home, carrying the last of England's luggage. "Mistah Kirkland, is there anythin' else yah might need?" the man asked with a heavy Cockney accent.

England shook his head and gave a firm glare at the man. "No. Yer dismissed. Now off with ya!"

The man nodded nervously and scrambled out of the house.

"Kirkland?" Alfred repeated. England smiled at him.

"That's my human name, Arthur Kirkland. My crew knows me as 'Captain Kirkland' instead of 'England'." He poked the tip of America's nose, making the boy giggle.

"Hey, England... I want a name too!" America beamed.

England chuckled "You already have one. It's America, isn't it?" he smiled.

"No! I mean, a human name! Something cool, like yours!" England pondered over this a bit then snapped his fingers as he got an idea.

"Alfred. Your name can be Alfred!" England grinned, America bounced excitedly.

"Yeah! Alfred Jones- No! Alfred _F_. Jones! Awesome!"

England quirked an eyebrow. "Why F?" _'And why Jones?'_ he silently added to the question, but assumed that maybe America was already thinking of a human name and all he did was confirm the boy's suspissions.

"Because of that word big brother France taught me! Alfred Fu-" England covered the boy's mouth.

"Eheh... Please avoid using that word. It's a bad word..." England swore he was going to burn the frog alive for teaching a child such vulgar language.

America- Alfred, merely grinned. His beautiful blue eyes, wide, staring at England. England smiled, mostly to himself. He had a feeling that, from now on, his human name would be used more often.

"Alfred F. Jones..." England whispered.

Alfred flushed. It was sort of embarrassing to have England say his name like that. But nevertheless he loved England and smirked. "Yes?" he answered, a cheeky grin on his face.

England smirked as well. His little Ameri- Alfred, was growing up. A bit too quickly for his pace, but never mind that. He was proud and he kissed the tip of Alfred's nose.

"Now, about that story..." And Arthur began telling the tale of Captain Kirkland, the most feared gentleman in the seven seas.

* * *

Alfred walked through the empty hallways of his home, wandering idly. England was working and Alfred had just run out of things to do. He sighed as he approached a stack of crates England had brought over, and decided to examine them. He trailed his finger over a crate, examining the texture.

But suddenly,

_'Tap'_

Alfred jumped, whipping his head around, looking for the source of the sound.

_'Tap, tap'_ it continued.

Alfred walked near the biggest crate.

_'Tap, tap, tap'_ Yup, this crate was the one making all the noise.

A part of Alfred told him to get as far away from the box a possible, the other part was just dying of curiosity. So he decided to listen to the later of his thoughts and unhooked the lid of the crate, only to have a man nearly jump out of the crate like a Jack in the box.

"Aaah, God! Wut the feckin' hell wus A' thinkin'?!" the man sighed, stretching as he was finally freed from his prison.

Alfred stared at the man. He had bright orange hair that was just as disheveled as England's, only, slightly longer for it almost touched his shoulders. His eyebrows just as thick as England's but, somehow, neater. Forest green eyes, freckles, a bit stubbly...

"Eh? What're ya starin' at, lad? Ye look like ye saw a ghost!" the man chuckled, getting out of the crate and ruffling Alfred's hair affectionately.

"Ya must be America! The colony mah eejit o' a brother keeps braggin' 'bout!" the man smiled deviously and he stuck his hand out. "The name's Ireland. Quinn McKinley Kirkland, if yar comfortable callin' me bah mah first name."

Alfred grinned and grabbed Ireland's hand in a strong grip and he shook it feverishly. "Heya! My name's America! Alfred F. Jones!"

Ireland gave a startled gasp at the grip.

"Woooaah there lad... Iron grip ye have there..." he muttered before chuckling, picking Alfred up and placing him over his shoulders.

"Let's go an' say hi tah Arthur!" Ireland smirked then broke into a sprint, following his instincts and heading towards the study room.

Alfred was laughing and giggling. It was so fun! England never did these kinds of things to him, because he was always too busy.. And even though Ireland claimed to be England's brother, he was the exact opposite of him! Alfred had a feeling he would be rather fond of Ireland...

Ireland kicked open the doors to England's room. England whipped his head towards the door and gasped, choking slightly on air and, what Ireland guessed was, spit.

"'Ello thar, meh least favorite o' a brother! Met yer li'l America. Ya sure got lucky! He's nothin' buh a bundle of cuteness an' sunshine!" Ireland grinned and bounced, making Alfred giggle with giddiness.

England turned a dangerous shade of red. "Quinn!! What the bloody-" Ireland brought a finger up to silence him.

"Ya swear in front of the lad? Are ya goin' insane? Yer s'posed tah be a GOOD influence! Not a bad one!"

"S-shut up!" England glanced at Alfred, who was burying his face in Ireland's hair, giggling.

"And will you please put Alfred down! Before he gets hurt!" England panicked slightly. One of his worse fears coming true. Alfred meeting his daft of a brother, Ireland.

"Ah, relax Arthur! Loosen up 'n get that prick outta yer arse!" Ireland laughed, going over to his brother and looking over his work.

"What the hell?! Yer plannin' out the lad's life?! Ya must'a hit yer head too hard an' lost yer mind!" Ireland screamed, flailing as he did.

England sighed. The bloke was just as loud as ever.

"Quinn, I'm not planning his life! Just arranging my stream of thoughts and culture..." England explained, then quirked an eyebrow "How'd you get here anyway..?"

"He came out of a box!" Alfred answered, his eyes widening as he remembered how he met Ireland.

"Tha's right! A'm one hell of a magical bastard!" Ireland chuckled, Alfred following the suite.

Sigh. This was going to be a long week...


	3. Oh, Canada

Only a day. It had only been a day since Ireland appeared in America's home, and already the git was causing havoc.

The next morning, England had discovered that Ireland and smuggled several crates of whiskey and wine. England demmanded they be thrown away but Ireland had used America as a lifeline.

"Hey, don' be killin' meh fun, Arthur! Alfreed! Arthur won't let meh drink!"

Ireland looked at Alfred with an exaggerated pout. But that was all it took for Alfred to look up and give England the look that he could not deny.

England sighed. "Alfred, the thing Quinn is drinking... Imagine swallowing a gallon of poison, that's what Quinn is drinking..." he explained.

Alfred's eyes went wide and he stared at Ireland for a long time before muttering words that shocked the two brothers.

"Cool..." Alfred beamed.

Ireland burst into laughter and patted Alfred's hair. "Good lad ye are! Glad ya approve o' me." he turned to Arthur, a mishcievous glint in his eyes.

"Ya sure proved me wrong! But now, a' kinda wanna steal the lad away from yah.." Ireland teased, although he was only half joking.

England realized that Ireland wasn't kidding about that and he growled.

"Don't you DARE. You might as well kiss your blasted blarney stone and _hope_ to get a fragment of charisma to even have a _chance_ of taking Alfred." England snarled.

"Oh, maybe a' will." Ireland growled back. "but be careful lad.. The rock might 'magically' start floatin' towards yer face an' just _smack_ ya **right **in the kisser."

"Magically my _arse_!"

"Ar ndóigh. I expected no more from my _dheartháir dúr_."

And with that, England lunged himself at his brother.

Alfred stared with horror and backed away. 'Slightly scared' would be an understatement. He was terrified.

Never has he seen such violence from England. The same England that was usually calm, drinking his tea and eating his scones... The stories may have given him an idea of just how strong England was, but he never expected to witness just how violent England could be.

Alfred was covering his eyes with his hands. When the screaming, grunting and noises of all the sorts never stopped, Alfred began to sob behind his hands.

Ireland and England immediately stopped when they heard the small sobs and whimpers from the corner. England scrambled up to get off Ireland and he all but shoved England off.

"Alfred! Oh, I'm so sorry! What's wrong?" England panicked.

"Ey lad... C'mon, tell yer big brothers why yer cryin'.."

Ireland reached out a hand to ruffle his hair but England slapped it away, grabbing Alfred and holding him in a protective position.

"Don't you touch the boy with those filthy hands of yours!" England growled.

America cried harder, causing the two men to go into a full out panic. They were far too flustered to even think about what to do next.

England rushed to the phone and dialed Finland's number, seeing as to how good the lad was with kids. Ireland did his best to keep the boy calm, which he managed to do after a good 30 minutes. Though the boy was still hiccuping and the tears were still there, he was no longer screaming.

* * *

Finland came over soon after Alfred had calmed down a bit. He rushed over to Alfred and picked him up, taking him to the front porch. Sweden, who came along (to his dismay), had given a look to the two men to stay where they were and to wait for Finland to return.

After what seemed to be the longest 10 minutes of England's life, the two returned, Alfred looking at his feet, Finland smiling slightly.

"Okay, go ahead Alfred. Tell them the reason you cried." Finland smiled down at Alfred.

"... You..." Alfred mumbled.

England's eyes went wide "Tell us, lad. What did we do to make you upset..?"

"You tackled big brother Ireland..." Alfred continued, ".. And the way Ireland grabbed you and- and... It looked scary.."

Alfred's shoulders shook slightly. "A-and I was just standing there... W-watching... I c-couldn't do anything... N-nothing..."

England's eyes softened "Oh... Oh, Alfred..." he murmured and pulled him into a hug.

England stared at Ireland, who stared back as they made the silent agreement of never fighting like that again.

At least... Not in front of Alfred.

* * *

"Really now, guys... You have to be more considerate.." Finland sighed. If he knew that Quinn was going to be here, he would have gone over with Sweden to keep this from happening...

The party had retreated for a meeting and had strayed over to the kitchen.

Ireland pointed to Arthur, a bored expression on his face. "Arthur did it this time. Not me."

Arthur sighed, "Quinn, it doesn't matter who started it. What matters now is that we both have to control ourselves in front of Alfred, for his sake."

"Yeah, but A wasn't tha one who pounced.." Ireland muttered under his breath

England was about to retaliate, when they heard a familiar voice of a certain Frenchman along with Alfred's little squeak and another, softer voice, trying to calm Alfred down.

"You look just like me!" Alfred shouted, eyes wide as he examined the other boy France had brought with him.

"A-ah... H-hello there..." the other boy stammered. His voice, gentle and tame, unlike Alfred's.

"Ah, _Amérique,_ this is your frère, Canada." France smiled and gently ruffled Canada's hair.

"Canada! Oh, hey there! My name's America, Alfred F. Jones! What's yours?" Alfred was excited at the thought of a brother. As long as he belonged to France, he didn't mind.

"Y-yes.. Canada.. M-Matthew Williams..." and he timidly brought his hand out to shake Alfred's, who grabbed it all too eagerly and pulled him into a hug.

"Okay then! I'll call you Matty! Since it's shorter." Alfred announced, gripping his brother into a bear hug.

"Alfred? What's going on here?" Arthur walked into the room and had only caught Matthew being pulled into a bear hug by Alfred.

"Arthur, this is Matty, my new twin brother!~" Alfred giggled, pulling away from Matthew and slinging his arm around the boy's shoulders in a friendly way.

Matthew cleared his throat and curtsied slightly "Bonjour, mon nom est Matthew Williams. Un plaisir de vous rencontrer."

England rolled his eyes. Of course, this child must have been France's colony. A respectful child, unlike his father figure.

"Il est très agréable de vous rencontrer aussi, mon nom est l'Angleterre. Arthur Kirkland." England responded in the same fluent tongue. Although he hated the frog more than anything in the world, he had to admit, the wine bastard was so damn _classy_. And Arthur rather enjoyed being classy, more than he'd admit.

Alfred quirked an eyebrow and stared at France. "Heeey, I wanna know what they're saying!"

France chuckled. "Maybe I will drop by more often and teach you some, oui?"

"Awesome! Bring Matty with you too!" Alfred giggled and hugged Matthew again, nuzzling his face onto the crook of his new brother's neck.

Francis stared at Arthur. Though he wouldn't admit it, the Frenchman was absolutely bubbling with happiness inside. Not only for the fact that Alfred was accepting his colony with open arms, but because with this, he could visit Arthur any time he wanted. He smiled to himself, now would be the perfect time to-

"Arthur, what'cha doin' over there? Is the lad all right?- Ah-" Ireland followed Arthur to see what the commotion was all about, only to see...

"Francis..." Quinn began. England sighed. It was starting again.. "... It's _nice _to see you, you fíon grámhara, dúr balbh, dírithe ar féin, FRAINCE-"

"Quinn, _enough_." Arthur scolded. Ireland could curse all he wanted later, for now, he just had to keep Ireland under control. To convince him to have enough decorum to not lunge for the frog's throat.

Francis smiled nervously "A-ah.. Bonjour, Quinn. I-It's nice to see you too.."

Matthew had already pulled away from Alfred (who was beginning to get rather cuddly) and began clinging onto France's dress shirt. '_Papa, I think we should go home..'_ was the message.

Francis gulped. His son was right, it was time to go. "... Well, it was nice to see... to see you all.. B-but I must bid you adieu. See you around." he smiled before picking up Matthew and walking towards the door and leaving.

"Good riddens..." Ireland muttered.

Alfred ran to the door and opened it slightly to wave goodbye. Arthur smiled at Alfred. The boy really loved Matthew, even though this was his first time meeting him.

Alfred yawned, walking over to England and grabbing a part of his shirt, leaning on him slightly before falling into his arms completely. Arthur caught him and picked him up, gently rubbing his back.

"I think it's time for bed..." and England smiled at the prone figure, he smiled _Alfred's _smile. Ireland had noticed that smile. Never in his life has he seen his brother smile like that to anyone.

'_Lucky lad. He loves ya more than 'nyone in the world.._'

**

* * *

**

**What's a blarney stone? GO GOOGLE IT 8D**

**Translations:**

**All Irish Words used XD:**

**Ar ndóigh – Of course**

**dheartháir dúr –stupid brother**

**fíon grámhara - wine loving**

**dúr - stupid**

**balbh - dumb**

**dírithe ar féin – self centered**

**FRAINCE – FRENCH**


	4. 1 2 3 4, I Declare A Thumb War

"Arthuuur! Why are you making me do this!" Alfred complained, his head poking out of the room.

Arthur sighed. "Because Francis specifically told me to let you wear that whenever he comes over! You can take it of _after_ the visit." Arthur had absolutely no idea what the bloody frog had given to the child, so he simply thought _'How bad can it be? It's not like he's putting the child in a dress.." _Oh how he thought wrong.

Alfred bashfully shuffled so his whole frame would be shown. What the hell. What the _bloody _hell. The boy was wearing this sort of replica of the dress he first had when he was a child. Only, bigger and longer. Arthur felt his eye twitch and at the same time, he felt himself blush. Damn that frog! Francis was gonna get it this time.. Surely he was. Making a fool out of his colony. That was when he remembered what that other lad was wearing... Matthew was it? Yeah, Matthew. He was wearing something similar with a red bow on his collar. It looked sort of like a uniform if you observed it a bit more... Wait. A uniform? England's eyes widened as the feelings of fear registered. He growled and immediately approached the boy.

"Alfred, go change into your normal clothes." he demanded.

"Huh? But I thought big brother Francis said-"

"Forget what Francis said! Just do as I say.." and with that said, Alfred gratefully retreated back to his room.

_'You're still after Alfred, eh Francis?' _Arthur scowled possessively. Paranoia sunk in along with the terrifying realization. Francis was not going to give up on the lad. Nope. He would keep trying and trying until he got his way and took the lad. That was _not_ about to happen. Not in this era or in the frog's lifetime.

His thoughts were disrupted by a knock on the door. Arthur shook his head and briskly approached the door. "Yes, who is it-"

He wasn't given the chance to finish his sentence for Quinn came running in, a panicked expression on his face. A _panicked_ expression. On Ireland, Quinn McKinley Kirkland's face. The face that never _once_ showed fear. This could _not_ be good.

"Arthur!-" Quinn breathed out. " H-He's 'ere t-tah... Tah take th'.. Th' lad..."

England's eyes widened. If this did not confirm his suspicions, nothing would. "Where is he now?"

" 'Es on 'is way 'ere with his own lad!" Quinn growled out. "Ye need 'elp protectin' Alfred? A'll gladly-"

"No, Quinn." Arthur scolded. "This is between Francis and me.."

"Ye sure? A'm 'ere tah help in 'ny way-"

"Go keep the lad busy. Distracted. It's... It's about time I.."

Quinn smirked slightly. "Yer declarin' war on th' bastard?"

Arthur nodded solemnly. "Make sure Alfred stays oblivious to all this. All of it. I don't want him worrying or stressing. He's much too young to comprehend the meaning of war."

At that precise moment, Alfred skipped out of his room in his normal clothes. He stopped half way only to go into a full sprint towards Ireland. "Quinn!~" he sang as he ran into the Irish man's arm.

Ireland picked up the boy and put his arms around him in a protective manner. He stole a glance at Arthur who was, to his surprise, fuming with jealousy. Quinn rolled his eyes and handed the boy over to Arthur. "Alfred, go say g'bye tah caterpillar-fer-eyebrows. We're gonna go play fer a while.."

Arthur flushed ten shades darker and his fingers twitched. No matter how much he admired his older brother, the twat was just so bloody _annoying_!

Alfred blinked. "But what about big brother Francis and my awesome twin brother, Matthew?"

"We'll be meetin' them later. Now go tah Arthur 'n give 'im a see-yah-later kiss!" Quinn chuckled. He set Alfred down so he could walk over to England. The boy grabbed Arthur's sleeve and lightly tugged it down. Arthur smiled and leaned down so Alfred could kiss his cheek. The boy giggled before shyly kissing Arthur on the cheek and running back to Ireland.

Arthur gave a firm nod at Quinn, who nodded back and retreated to the garden with the boy.

* * *

"Bonjour!~ I have arrived!" Francis burst through the doors of England's office. A grand entrance, as usual.

England glared at the Frenchman at the door. Obviously, the frog did not dare bring Matthew inside the office for even if the git was vain, he wasn't stupid.

"Francis." Arthur said bitterly. "Please. Have a seat. I need to discuss something with you.."

"What is it my dearest Angleterre?" Francis chirpped.

"Don't bloody act like you don't know what you're doing. I know what you're up to. It isn't going to work."

Francis's smile disappeared with that said and he quickly sat down on the seat across from England.

"Ah, I see. You've figured out my plan, oui?" Francis smirked.

"Yes. And I don't plan on letting you get away with it either, Francis." Arthur hissed.

"Mon cher, I don't expect you to just _let_ me get your cute, little Amérique!"

"And that I wont, Francis. That I wont." Arthur growled out.

Francis backed off. He knew that when England growled like that, he meant business.

"Francis..." Arthur sighed, regaining his composure. "I'm not giving up America. Not ever. At least, not without a fight."

"So it has come to this, oui?"

"_Yes_, Francis. And if you lose.." England remembered how much America loved Matthew. Loved Canada. "You give up your colony."

Francis paled. He shot England a pleading look before clenching his jaw shut and looking at his feet. The Frenchman had a choice to make. This was all or nothing. A gamble. Francis abruptly stood up and slammed his hand on the desk. England kept his cool and stared up at Francis.

"...Fine. But I assure you, I will win, against _mon petit frère_" (my little brother) Francis hissed.

"Whatever you say, _grand frère_." (big brother) Arthur hissed back.

And with that, Francis stomped out of the room.

* * *

"E-Eh? P-Papa, where are we going..? I-I'm not done playing with Alfred.."

"Hey! Leggo of Matthew! We're still playing!" Alfred complained as he watched Francis carry Canada out the front door.

"Nous devons aller, Matthew." (We must go, Matthew.) Francis whispered.

"P-Pourquoi?" (Why?) Matthew asked weakly.

"Nous sommes maintenant en guerre, mon cher Matthieu." (We are now at war, my dear Matthew) he gave a sad smile to the boy in his arms.

Matthew's eyes widened. "La guerre?" (War?) he wondered out loud.

Francis went aboard his boat and kissed Matthew's forehead. "Laissez-nous pas en cause cette pensée. Laissez-nous vivre ici et maintenant, mon cher Matthieu." (Let us not question the thought. Let us live here and now, my dear Matthew)

And with that said, Francis returned home to prepare for war.

* * *

**Desole! For the short Chapter! Thank you all for supporting me and my first fic!~ **

**Okay, some of you are thinking that "What the hell? Is that really how the war started? With a dress?"**

**The answer is "PFFT- No." I just needed a filler. The next chapters will explain the rest XD!**

**Thank you all for staying with me until now! Oh, and about the French, NO I am not French, I just used Google Translate, cuz I win 8D.**

**Hm.. What else.. Oh, yeah. Rating may go up to T. But that depends on you guys. Please review and tell me what I should do. Thanks!**

**~Ina**

**P.S.: No, I do NOT own Hetalia. /sobs**


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